


And Lestrade Had Hope

by TheCiaRicht



Series: Why Sherlock Invented Urban Camouflage (Or And Sherlock Gave Them Hope) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anderson and Donovan are children, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Gen, John is NOT insane, Lestrade is tired, Sherlock is such a creeper, Urban Camouflage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCiaRicht/pseuds/TheCiaRicht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Sherlock, you can't.'</p>
<p>'But My, it's so simple, just let me help a little?'</p>
<p>'Fine, but you can't do this again. I'm serious Sherlock, what you did with John was risky.'</p>
<p>'Whatever, I have the perfect disguise!'</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Lestrade Had Hope

 

_'Sherlock, you can't.'_

_'But My, it's so simple, just let me help a little?'_

_'Fine, but you can't do this again. I'm serious Sherlock, what you did with John was risky.'_

_'Whatever, I have the perfect disguise!'_

 

***

 

Just hours after that particular conversation, Sherlock found himself outside The Yard, waiting for the opportune moment to exit the car and venture over to the wall that was needed for his disguise to actually work. As soon as enough people had entered the street, Sherlock joined the masses, hiding himself within the crowd and flattening himself against the wall when he came to it, adjusting himself as neccessary for the camouflage to work.

 

Sherlock waited in silence for the man that he was looking for, that would use the information he had to the best of his potential. Of course, Lestrade was a man of routine (brought on by too many years with his wife and a brief stint in the armed forces), which meant that Sherlock spotted him leaving the Yard at exactly seven. When Lestrade got close enough Sherlock smiled fondly at Lestrade's mumbling about Anderson, who had predicatably done something wrong at the crime scene. Something about moving an essential piece of evidence and using it to attack Donovan?

 

As per usual after a day at the office, Lestrade stopped to get coffee from the outdoor stall, placing his bag on the ground in order to retrieve his wallet from his coat pocket. Seeing this as the opportunity it was, Sherlock pulled a folder out of his jacket, slowly, so as not to attract any attention to himself. A week previous, Sherlock had compiled a folder of information regarding a crime that the team at the Yard were following. With exaggerated care, Sherlock slipped the folder into Greg's open bag, placing it where it would easily be seen, but not so easily that Lestrade would see it before Sherlock wanted him to. Once he was sure that the folder was placed exactly where he wanted it, Sherlock moved back to his spot on the wall, his jacket blending easily with the graffiti behind him, which was exactly what he designed it to do.

 

Lestrade finished his coffee order and bent down to take his bag, not even glancing at it's contents. He shuffled a bit and then made his way to his new apartment. Watching Lestrade walk away was hard, Sherlock wanted to speak to him, calm him down from his obvious stress, make a joke that only he would get, but that Lestrade was sure to appreciate all the same. Sherlock could tell that Lestrade's wife had left him (the bags around his eyes, the hunch of his shoulders and the way his eyes stayed focussed on the pavement were dead giveaways), and he wanted nothing more than to distract him, make him laugh. (Though really, it shouldn't have come as a shock. She was obviously sleeping with her boss. Sje was always staying late when she didn't do any work anyway, he was sure the ex-couple hadn't slept together for months before the divorce and did he think that pay rise came from nowhere?)

 

Once Lestrade was out of sight, Sherlock glided back over to the car, sitting back. He stayed there, thinking, until Anderson and Donovan came out of the Yard, bickering. Sherlock smirked and felt as if he could almost miss them, but he quickly quelled the feeling with a full body shudder and a grimace. No. But when he 'came back from the dead', maybe he could learn to tolerate them a little more.

...Maybe not.

 

***

 

Lestrade had just gotten off the phone with John who told him about the surprise donut drop-off that had happened last month, John believed that it was Sherlock, was adament that he had survived the fall. Lestrade felt genuinely worried for him, Sherlock's death had hit John hard, but after all this time? It had been a bit too long for John to start seeing him everywhere again. He shook his head and opened his bag, readying himself to spend the night reading over the evidence of the latest crime, he knew the answer was right in front of them, and (not for the first time) he desperately wished that Sherlock was still with them.

 

He opened his bag and frowned, he noticed a folder, one that was certainly too organised for his team to have put together. Regarding it warily, he made the decision to just look inside. Maybe his team had decided to place some pride in their book keeping. Opening the, he saw print outs of websites, newpaper clippings and word documents, all leading to one conclusion. The alibis, the eye witnesses, all lying, trying to protect... . Lestrade's eyes widened and he scrabbled for his phone, flicking through the evidence again. Of course, idiot. Of course it was that simple.

 

"Donovan? Yes. Get to the Yard. Now. No, I don't care what you're doing. It was the son. Yes, that's right. Now go."

 

Hanging up, Lestrade thought that maybe John wasn't as crazy as he'd thought. Because only one person could give such thorough evidence and end it all with a _'If the investigative team working on this weren't idiots, it would have been obvious. And you deserved better than her.'_

 

Maybe he was wrong...

Maybe it wasn't him...

But at least now he could hope.


End file.
